Just Keep Telling Yourself
by Littlemiss writer 2001
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. John and Sherlock are in a state of confusion about their feelings for each other. Mary does not exist.
1. Chapter 1

Ff

I looked across at his dark tousled hair, his head bent over another of his experiments. Sherlock Holmes. Detective. Sociopath. I wasn't not sure what to make of him anymore. His deductions took my breath away. Now, I was positive I was not gay. But I couldn't help noticing his beautifully angular face, his perfectly symmetrical body. His impeccable dress. He seemed to notice I was staring at him, and looked up.

" Yes John? " he sounded rather exasperated. I stared at him like a blind man who could see again. " John?"

" Mm? Sherlock? Oh, nothing." his head went back over his work. He seemed rather stomach rumbled. I got up, disturbing our silence. Sherlock's head flew up again.

" lunch. You need lunch to function properly." I said, half expecting him to stay where he was. To my surprise, he got up and walked past me into the kitchen. As he passed me, his hand brushed mine, our fingertips almost holding together. Then the moment passed, and we went to eat. That was one of the few times I had seen him eat properly. It was only a sandwich, but that was better than nothing.

" John!" called Sherlock. He sounded so cute when he was impatient. " Case. Now." I got up, throwing on my usual trousers and jumper. I came down the stairs, feeling underdressed as normal beside his spotless suit.

" Murder. There is a lady on the train tracks. We've got to investigate, and if Donovan and Anderson are there , it's no wonder they need us." We hailed a taxi, and as we sat in silence, I felt the strange impulse to hold his hand. He noticed me looking at his hand, and pulled it sharply back to his lap. I was confused by myself. I was sure I wasn't gay, but here I was wanting to hold his hand. There was a lot of traffic, and Sherlock inevitably disappeared off into his mind palace. I took a sideways glance at him. I began a silent mantra ' I am not gay I am not gay'

" sure, keep telling yourself that" the taxi driver smiled. I could feel myself going red. I must've said that out loud.

" Sherlock. We're here. Sherlock. SHERLOCK!" I yelled. He opened his eyes, looked at me calmly and said

" Well then. Let's have a look."

" Simple. Can't see why they needed me. Not worth my time" Sherlock said grumpily, making my heart skip as he pouted. He looked adorable.

" Ok then. Shall we leave?"

" Yes. Now." We jumped in a cab and he sulked all the way home.

" Stupid small minded people. I don't know how you cope." He grumbled to himself. As he grumbled and muttered, his hand began to slide over the seat to mine, and our hands sat next to each other in the middle. I stretched out a tentative finger, aware of the tension in his entire body. Our fingers touched, and I felt a frisson of energy as his fingers intertwined with mine. We sat in the soft, blanketing silence, neither saying a word, scared of breaking the fragile new bond we had made. When we arrived at the door of 221b, his hand left mine quickly as he jumped out, not meeting my eye as he began to talk at me.

" We have another case, a drowning by a lake. Get a bite to eat, you people seem to need it, and then we're leaving again." He stared straight ahead, clearly thinking about something sensitive. I pulled him lightly inside by the fingertips, and he pulled sharply away from my touch. I grabbed a hunk of bread, and we left again.

We stood side by side, looking at the lake, the early morning mist rolling over the surface of the lake. We had been there for hours, and I was exhausted. Suddenly, without warning, Sherlock spotted something and pitched himself into the lake. He went under, and stayed there for some time. My heart began to flutter, and I began to worry. He resurfaced, clutching a body. I rushed forward to him, only to be pushed aside by Mycroft. Sherlock was hauled out the lake, gasping, by Mycroft. I grabbed his arm, and said firmly " We are going home now. You will get freezing cold, and maybe even contract hypothermia. Just trust me on this . I'm a doctor. "

" No. I'm staying here until it's solved" Sherlock protested. We argued like this for several minutes, until I concluded I would never win an argument against this man. Even when Sherlock began to shiver uncontrollably, he would not admit to being cold. Finally, Mycroft decided to intervene.

" Sherlock, you have to go home now. I don't care if you don't want to, just go. " I smirked, and walked beside a dripping Sherlock who still refused to get on a train. We caught another cab, and Sherlock was beginning to look blue. My leg began to shake, and I drummed my fingers. We had to get home- and fast.

I practically ran up the stairs, dragging Sherlock behind me. I went into full doctor mode, lying him on the sofa and asking him question after question. He looked blue, and I stacked blanket upon blanket on him, giving him tea and lighting the fire. He began to look warmer, and I sat by him, rubbing his hand between mine as he began to drift into a light sleep, his hands moving to hold mine. I didn't move incase I woke him up, besides, he looked so cute sleeping. He was up and down all night, but by the morning he was getting better, and out of the danger zone. I decided to take a nap, but ended up blogging. As I typed, I thought about Sherlock. I was so sure I wasn't gay, yet I felt something when he held my hand. I fell into a fitful sleep, one filled with nightmares and visions. I dreamed we were in a lake, and I was trying to pull Sherlock up but I couldn't, and I was losing strength, and that turned into a firing range. The soldiers were aiming at... at... at Sherlock. As they clicked the bullet in place, I screamed his name.

" John. John. What is it? Are you ok?" Sherlock burst in the room, wearing nothing but his boxers. He sounded genuinely concerned. I blushed deeply.

" Nightmares. Just nightmares" I mumbled.

" Your nightmares involve me?" Sherlock said, surprised. I couldn't help but stare at his muscly chest, slim but prominent. It was as well defined and beautiful as his face. He coughed lightly to remind me of his question.

" Oh um.. Sorta kinda yes." I mumbled quickly. He raised his eyebrows, and then stored the information away. I hustled him back to rest, on the promise that he could have his violin in bed. I watched him sleep. He was constantly shifting around, moving. He found my hand, and I felt my body tense as he held it in his sleep, clutching it to his chest with his violin. I tried to move away, but in doing so jolted him awake.

" John?" he asked " What is the meaning of this?"

" I am not gay" was all I managed to mumble as I ran from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N Sherlock's perspective. Please let me know how I am doing, this is my first attempt.)

He wasn't meant to be there. He wasn't meant to find out. He was not gay, so there was no point in giving myself false hope. There was no doubt about it. I, Sherlock Holmes, was in love. It was a strange, human sensation. It was the unknown. And I didn't like the unknown. It had creeped inside of me, and grown. It must be suppressed.

John emerged from his room, his face all apologetic and cute. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Another mission. Couldn't they do without me? There was so much I wished to say. It would have to wait. As he opened his mouth, I cut him off.

" Another case. I know it's soon. But we have to go." I almost faltered in my speech when his half smile wavered, disappointment written everywhere. I turned abruptly on my heel and left the room.

I always refused to listen to him, I thought as I stood on the cliff top. I wondered how it made him feel. Strange things, feelings. They were always so unexpected. I wondered if what he told me to was for my own good, or for his. Probably mine, knowing John. I refused to eat, simply because it was a distraction from my important work. All my experiments and my wonderings. I need to experiment on him, play with him, see what he does and feels when I do different things. And then I have to factor in the fact that he had nightmares about me...

John's perspective

I watched him on the cliff top, his cloak swirling around him as he searched the ground, his face concentrated and sexy. Again! I have to just keep telling myself . I am not gay.

We weren't there for much longer after that. Sherlock was in a strop, and refused to talk to me. Seeing him so close to the edge of the cliff had made me remember that night that he...he...he.. It triggered nightmares, and I woke up screaming his name. There was silence, and then I felt a warm body next to me, wrapping its arms around me comfortingly. I turned into this unknown person, tucking my head into their chest. I didn't know who it was, but I didn't have any more nightmares that night. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was Sherlock, but there was no reason for him to. He wasn't gay. And neither was I. Was I?

I woke up, and the stranger was gone. I could hear the sweet strains of Sherlock's music. I walked behind him, and he seemed oblivious to my presence. Mrs Hudson bustled in, reminding us to eat and tidy up before we left today. As she left the room, he spun around, looking accusingly at me.

" You were listening, weren't you?" God he was cute. " John?"

" Uuhh... I was. You can really play" I said unintelligibly. He smirked, turning away to play some more at the window.

We didn't have a case that day. He played violin all day, and I didn't succeed in making him eat. Ever since he fell in that lake he'd looked thinner by the day. However much I pleaded with him, he would not a single thing. I didn't know how he survived. It was almost physically impossible. But my Sherlock was impossible. Wait, what?! My Sherlock? What was I thinking? I wasn't gay! I just had to keep telling myself that. I walked into his bedroom, not expecting him to be there. But he was there, facing out the window, shirtless. God, he was beautiful. I wondered if his skin felt as smooth as the person who slept with me's skin did.

Every night for two or three months it became the custom for this stranger to creep into my bed, comfort me and keep me safe. One night though, I decided this strange person must have a name put to them, or at least a face. So when they were asleep I turned on the light. I gasped. Their clear blue eyes flew open.


	3. Chapter 3

( A/N from now on it will start with Sherlock's perspective)

John stared at me in shock, his face confused yet trying hard to hide some unfathomable emotion. What could it be? Never mind about that, John wasn't supposed to know! I had to move fast. I would have to explain to him.

" I... I... I... " I couldn't finish my sentence. I ran from the room. I didn't know how to deal with this. I had become so accustomed to sleeping with him in my arms. It had become the norm rather than the exception. There was only one thing I could turn to at a time like this. And it certainly wasn't my brother. I grabbed my coat, my gaze lingering over John's coat. I slammed the door shut, winding down the back streets to the old familiar shabby store. I went to the back and unrolled my sleeves, showing the pale scars on my already pale skin. The slim man let me through, showing me to a dark room stocked high with boxes. He handed me one, and I raised my eyebrows. I left the alley with 5 boxes and a considerably lighter purse.

John

Sherlock. Oh god, I should've known. I sat on the bed, stunned long after the sound of a slamming door had reverberated through the house. I should've gone after him. Who knows what he might do. I felt the space beside me where he was, remembered his flawless arms around me, his chest pressed against my back. I hugged my knees to my bare chest. He was even more beautiful shirtless. But I wasn't gay. That's it John . Just keep telling yourself. Then it would surely be true. Wouldn't it? I began to sob into my knees . What had I done to Sherlock.

Sherlock

I sat in the dingy alleyway, unable to continue. I opened the box and injected the contents of it into my arm, adding to the scars that told of my past. I grabbed another of the items and lit it, taking long drags from it. Maybe this would help. Still no response. I took a razor blade and dragged it across my skin. There. I lay back and was distracted for a while. I knew it wouldn't last though. I just had to keep doing this, so I wouldn't remember his shocked and disappointed face. So I could leave the memories that were flooding my brain of stones and fists and words twisted like knives. I slipped into a heavy, unnatural sleep.

John

I lay there, imagining all sorts of horrors. Mrs Hudson came in, looking flustered.

" John, you'd better come here"

I stumbled into the kitchen, confused. I blushed deeply. In front of me stood Mycroft. And here I was, all shirtless and in my pyjamas.

" To what do I owe this pleasure, Mycroft? " He smiled grimly.

" I assume you are aware of my brother's deteriorating health." I nodded. " The place where he used to get drugs and razors and cigarettes have informed us he has been back- and this time with more then he has ever bought. We shall see when he comes home, but you will most likely have to temporarily move out. We will pay for that of course, but I thought we should let you know beforehand." I stood, gaping at him . Sherlock is a...a drug addict? The room span before me, flashing between Mycroft and Sherlock and Mrs Hudson. Wait... Sherlock? He's back... The room and faces blurred together, merging into blackness.

Sherlock

I watched John fall to the floor, watched his face turn ashen Gary before my brother. He didn't know about my...addiction before then.

" Sherlock" Mycroft spoke." I will let you have the contents of that box in your room. You must, however, promise me that you will refrain from using them. This is a test of willpower. John is going away. He may choose to never come back" he left. No.. John... He couldn't leave. I needed him. I needed his short temper, his sweetness, his blunt reality. I needed my John. I could've done anything for my John. But I loved him too much and I dived too deep. I sat down on my bed, looking across to his bed , through my open door to his chair. I fell back and began to drown in my own sorrow.

John

I lay in the hard, unfamiliar bed, empty and cold without Sherlock's presence. What had my curiosity brought upon us . When I finally was released into the cold fingers of sleep, it was riddled with nightmares of his broken, bloody body and the terrible deeds done by war. Without his soft touch to comfort me, I succumbed to true fear in the night.


	4. Chapter 4

( A/N thanks for the helpful reviews! I will take them all into account. I am also having a really stressful time so the updates will be less frequent.) I needed John. It was simple. Without him I was like a fish in the sky. I was all wrong and upside down. I never knew love could be quite so strong and all-consuming. My thoughts turned to his face, then memories. All those unsavoury memories. I clenched my fists as I lay on the bed, fighting the urge. I squeezed my eyes shut tight. After a while I relaxed my self. There was no point. I couldn't resist it, yet I loathed that it had so much power over me. I reached into the box and succumbed to the powerful and releasing feeling that it brought. I shut my eyes. I knew this sleep wouldn't be natural, like my last, but it would be heavy, and a relief from the pain. John I curled up in a ball, shivering, covered in sweat and vomit. I had been so scared that I had thrown up. I awoke several times that night. I could barely sleep. I dragged myself out of bed, reminding myself that Sherlock might need me any minute. I took off the stinking, drenched sheets and put them in the washing machine. I checked my phone. No texts. I would not admit to myself that I was waiting for one from him. I would not admit the jolt in my heart I felt when Mycroft told me the news yesterday. I would admit to nothing. I had to keep repeating my silent mantra. I am not gay. It simply wasn't possible. I had had girlfriends. But maybe it was just Sherlock. I always knew he was the exception. I slid down the wall, my head spinning with confusion. Was I gay? What happened to Sherlock? And the most important- was he ok? From what Mycroft told me, I guessed not. I realised how much he hid from me, how much I didn't know about this beautiful man. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sherlock I groaned as I was rudely shaken awake by my angry brother. " I thought better of your willpower and my teachings, brother of mine. What did I say? I told you to lock up your feelings, and you didn't listen and now look at yourself. A disgrace. And look what you did to John." he showed me a picture of John, pale and curled up in a pile of his own vomit. His usually tidy hair was tousled and he had a waxy pallor to his skin. I could see tear tracks on his face and his brow was furrowed. What had I done? I began to shake and break down. What damage had I caused? I tried to run out the room, but Mycroft's restraining hand caught me. " You're going no-where. You are mentally and physically unstable. I will personally make sure you do not leave this room except to go to the bathroom. You will exert more self control over yourself and not use those boxes. I will leave for now, but I will check on you." and with that, he left. Always one for dramatic exits, my brother. I lay on my bed, resisting the power for a measly 45 minutes before reaching across and injecting it all in . One big hit should be enough to drown the pain. The room span and I thought I saw John. " John, my love." I murmured. I tried to stagger to my feet but stumbled and tripped. I whacked my head on the bed and felt blood trickle down my face. The world faded away. John I shut my eyes, opening them again when I felt bile rise in my throat. I tired to sit up, but my muscles had seized up. I couldn't move. Not enough sleep. I vomited in my mouth, choking and trying to scream. I could get less and less air in with every breath. I slowly blacked out, resigned to the fact that I was going to die. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I awoke with a hospital gown on, a nurse by my side and an oxygen mask on. I had not died! I would live to see my Sherlock's beautiful face once more. A man who I couldn't quite place the name of came in, looking solemn. " John, there is no easy way to put this. Sherlock's in hospital because of an overdose." the world span once more. 


	5. Chapter 5

(A/N the updates will be fairly regular now, an update once every 2 days unless I'm away, which I will warn you about.)

The world was blurred, and full of pain. I saw him everywhere. John was all around me, and helped me slip into an uneasy unconscious state. John Oh god , Sherlock. What've I done to you? I didn't know much anymore, but I knew that I needed to see him now. I sat up, only to be pushed down again. I tried to speak, but my words slurred together. A pill was forced into my hand, and I was told firmly but kindly to swallow it to help me. I did as I was told, and blacked out again.

I kept waking, thinking I could hear him calling out for me, then falling back to sleep. Why would he call out for me? He wasn't gay. He didn't even have friends, he said so himself. And he wasn't gay. Neither was I, was I? I began to question myself. I was woken again, this time by loud voices. " He is needed. We must have him let pit. He is fine now. " I rubbed my eyes, and sat up slowly, blood rushing to my head. I stood up, padding along the quiet corridors of the familiar hospital. I swung open the door, bracing myself for the worst. There were so many tubes and wires sticking out of him, and his arm that was laid out was punctured with tiny scars. I didn't realise how bad it was. I bowed my head, blinking back tears. I had to keep it together. I walked over to him, sitting beside him and watching his beautiful face, innocent and vulnerable in his sleep. After a while, I gingerly stretched out a hand and took his cold, pale one in mine, I smoothed my thumb over his hand, trying to comfort not only him but me. Seeing him this broken only reminded me of the real reason I was in this hospital. He couldn't die though. Not now, not today. There was so much that I needed him for, but if he needs me to leave then I must. I must be prepared for the worst. I must be prepared. I must be...

Sherlock

I blinked awake, aware of so many tubes and wires in me. I felt a rough, strong hand on mine, loosely holding it as though they were asleep. I glanced across, and saw John sleeping beside me, a half-eaten sandwich on my bedside table and John's hand grasping mine. I tried to sit up, but even moving my fingers was a huge effort. I tightened my fingers around his, feeling strange about this. I felt...what do I call it...happy. I felt happy for the first time in many years. I knew he didn't, he couldn't love me like I did him, but at least he cared a bit. Squeezing his hand, I fell back into a deep stupor. John I awoke and he still wasn't awake. 1 week without consciousness. I checked his chart. There seemed to be 1 or 2 minutes where he was conscious, but other than that, it was all the same. I sat down again, resuming my position holding his hand. It felt...right. I began to watch him again. *

" We will have to make a decision soon. We can't keep him like this forever. " I heard Mycroft's commanding tones, and my eyes fluttered open. He noticed. " Sherlock. You've returned to the land of the living. Now your lover can sleep properly" I was thoroughly confused. " John is not my lover. And what do you mean by ' he can sleep properly'?" I asked. " Of course he isn't your lover " replied Mycroft." You have been out for 2 weeks, and not once has John left your side, even though to begin with he was supposed to be hospitalised himself. Now you are awake, you need to get your strength back. This could take some time" I looked at John. " Did you really not leave my side?" I asked, transfixed by his eyes.

John

His head was tilted sideways, with a small smirk on his face. His normally sparkling, bright blue eyes were dull. I had to tell him what I thought I felt. " Sherlock, I..I...I... I " mid sentence one of his support machines crashed and he slumped forwards, his eyes rolling back. " Sherlock!" I screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N terribly sorry I haven't updated in a while. I have been sailing, . Next chapter will be later.)

I struggled to lift my eyelids, and woke once more to John's beautiful face. I reached up a hand to touch it, to reassure myself that he was definitely there, that it wasn't just my imagination. Beneath my fingertips I felt the rough stubble that came from not shaving for a week, saw the dark purple shadows underneath the concerned eyes. I squeezed shut my eyelids, praying that I wasn't in hospital, that John hadn't seen me so weak and defenceless, that he hadn't stayed here all that time. Although, part of me hoped that he did, that he cared so much that he would refuse to sleep or go home for a week. I opened my eyes again, as John began to talk to me in a low, hoarse voice.

" Sherlock. You were in a short coma, and we have only managed to wake you a week after your support systems crashed. I have stayed with you" my heart lept as he paused. " to ensure you were being looked after properly. I must leave now" he walked out, looking ashamed with himself. Mycroft walked in, once again.

" still not your lover is he, Sherlock? " he asked, a small smile playing across his lips. " he stayed right by you all week, again taking charge of your care. He even held your hand, whispering to himself that he wasn't gay. " my heart lept right into my mouth. Did he really say that? I kept my expression neutral.

" Honestly Mycroft. Don't be so childish. " I said, turning to the side so he couldn't see my smile spreading across my face

John

I rushed out the doors, walking briskly to my office and pacing it. I was a stupid, stupid coward. Why could I not say it? His stupid, innocent, sparkling eyes. So distracting... And those cheekbones... I paced in circles, walking the circles made when I used to pace after he...he...jumped. I swallowed. I wouldn't remember that. I couldn't help remembering his expectant face as I talked to him. Did he expect it? Did he feel like I did? After a week of sitting by his side, watching his steady breathing, I was completely sure of my feelings. But of his feelings, I had no idea. I breathed in deeply as my assistant walked in.

" Doctor Watson, I believe that you should go home now. You have been working too hard. " I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers.

" At least let me wait until Mr. Holmes is discharged, please. " She nodded.

" Very well then, . " she left.

I went back to my pacing, then decided it would be time to check Sherlock again.

Sherlock

I traced the patterns on the bed sheet with my finger. John walked in.

" Jooohn..." I moaned. " Bored." He began to prod at me, checking my many machines. He began to unhook me.

" I know it's boring. You're going home tomorrow. Just try and be less bored, ok?" I nodded sulkily, flexing my arms as he took out the needles. I swung my legs round the bed, trying to stand up. I wobbled, and fell right back, sitting and staring grumpily at my legs. John held back a small giggle, helping me to stand. I let him guide me to the bathroom, leaning heavily on him as my shaky legs had decided not to work today. I fell onto him on the way back, and we toppled onto the floor, our faces inches from each other as I attempted to stand up, squashing him beneath me. We lay there panting, and I rolled off him to let him take my hand and help me up. When I was standing, albeit with some help, he refused to let go of my hand, and when we were back in my room he only did so reluctantly.I sat upright , steepling my hands and shutting my eyes, signalling that I was in my mind palace.

I rolled off the bed, awakening John with a thump. He smirked at me, and pulled me back up. I could almost stand alone now. I sat on the bed, swinging my legs and looking around. I watched John do his work with fascination, seeing the respect he held with others, seeing what was almost another family that I had never seen before. I begun to realise how much John was dropping when I forced him to come with me. I almost felt guilty, until I recalled his face when he was on a case with me.

John

I watched him trail his fingers over the furniture, resting on the chair he always sat in, his chair. He brought his fingers up to his face, and sneezed lightly, cutely.

" Dust " he said, confused. " Why here, but no-where else? " I blushed.

" I uh.. I didn't want to touch it while you were gone. It didn't feel right" I mumbled. He smirked his sideways smile, making my heart flutter as he sat down. He picked up his violin, blowing the dust off and chuckling as I screwed up my nose in an attempt not to sneeze. He stood up by the window, and began to play, swaying slightly in time to the music. I watched him, saw the sky darken in front of him, saw his perfect, angel-like silhouette against the setting sun. As he put down the violin and turned back to me, I broke the heavy silence.

" Sherlock" I said, my heart racing. " I'm not sure about how you feel, but I'm pretty sure you aren't gay. " I breathed in deeply, summoning all my courage. " and I was pretty sure I wasn't, and then I met you. I... I ... I ... I love you Sherlock" I stuttered. I began to turn away, but he grabbed my face and he kissed me.


	7. Chapter 7

(A/N so sorry about delay, and unfortunately I am going away on Saturday for 1 week, then again for two weeks. I don't know when I'll be able to update next, so please don't hate me for not updating. Thanks! As always, I love to see your reviews)

I pulled him closer, wrapping my fingers around his soft hair. We broke apart, breathing quickly. I looked into his brown eyes, warm and understanding. I searched his face for a sign of regret, for something that might be holding him back, and found nothing. He leaned forward and kissed me right back. His hands were entwined in my hair, our legs twisted together as we turned sideways to face each other. One hand stayed on his head, the other drifted down his back, feeling his scars. My brave little John. I imagined him fighting, him falling, wounded yet getting up again. We were abruptly, and rather rudely, interrupted by a small cough. I turned around.

" Still not your lover?" he asked quietly, a small smile spreading across his face. I blushed, turning round to face John. I raised my eyebrows, asking a question. He inclined his head. I intwined his fingers with mine, turning back around. I sighed. How to explain this... John pressed himself against my back.

" Well... Mycroft... As of now... We just um...confessed our love for each other.." I saw Mrs Hudson's ecstatic face behind my brother.

" Oh this is lovely! I was wondering when you two were going to admit it to each other." Mrs Hudson gushed, filling

the silence as John and I stared down Mycroft.

" How mature of you. You have found something you don't like and so you stare at it. " He smirked. John pressed his face against my back. He began to walk his fingers down my back, slipping his hands around my waist. His fingers began to fiddle with the zip on my trousers. I groaned lightly, as silently as I could. John stifled a giggle as Mycroft looked at me strangely. We sat in the heavy silence, until Mycroft was bustled out of the room by Mrs Hudson, who winked at us surreptitiously. I turned my back to the door, where I knew Mycroft had planted one of his cameras.

" Where was I ?" I murmured softly. He held my head.

" You were telling me about.." John prompted

" I love you John. I have done since the day we met. " I gazed into his eyes, as he took charge and held my head while he kissed me, and our hands wandered...

* a few months later.

John

I had a strange, fluttery feeling all over when he touched me, kissed me and told me he loved me. I rolled over, accidentally whacking Sherlock in the face. He groaned and I giggled. His eyes fluttered open.

" Hey babe" he said, making my heart flutter. I traced his chest with my hand, teasing him. He looked up at me, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes. His phone buzzed.

" let's leave that. I think we're owed a day off, dont you?" he said huskily, trailing his pale fingers over my chest. I could only mumble a yes as he pulled me in close for a kiss, his body moulding to mine. Mrs Hudson chose that moment to walk in, holding a large tray stuffed with all the breakfast two men could ever want. When she saw us, she blushed bright scarlet, but Sherlock would not release me from his angel arms, he only let his hands wander. I kissed his nose when we came up for air, and Sherlock pouted as I moved away.

" C'mon. We have to eat something." I said, barely resisting him as he ran his fingers through my hair, pressing himself against my back and kissing my shoulder.

" John... Do I have to?" he groaned. I laughed.

" Yes you do, you silly, irresistible man." I kissed his nose, making him laugh and then pushed a piece of toast into his open mouth. He tried to look cross, but he couldn't help laughing. Oh, how I loved this man.

" Jooohn..." Sherlock moaned, throwing himself across the sofa. " Boored."

" Well." I said, trying and failing to keep a straight face as he pulled faces at me," You were the one who told me we weren't going to take that case." he shot up at the sound of a case.

" Is it too late now John? Do you think they still need me?" his face was so happy and childlike, I couldn't resist. I pulled myself up.

" Sure. Let's go." I ran to grab my coat, and he stepped ahead of me. Always the gentleman. We hailed a cab, and were soon on our way.

We stood by the body, our hands clasped together. We were aware of the whispering behind us, but Sherlock squeezed my hand encouragingly. I sighed. Sherlock immediately turned to me, a questioning look in his eyes.

" I just...I feel like we should tell someone about us, make it official, but if we do that it makes it seem really real, and I feel like some other person is going to come and whisk you away because I am, and never will be, good enough for you." I couldn't meet his gaze. He unwrapped his signature scarf from his neck, flinging it around mine and making me look him in the eye.

" John" he said seriously. " Don't ever feel that. You are perfect, all that I could ask for." he paused, bringing me closer so I could catch the lapels of his coat, clinging to him like a drowning man. " And I will never leave you. You are irreplaceable. And," he brought me closer, so close that we closed our eyes, and I stretched up to rest my forehead on his nose. " I don't care what they say. You are mine, and I am yours. It was just meant to be." I reached up to kiss him, holding onto his neck as he held the ends of the scarf, keeping me locked to his chest. We broke apart, aware of the scattered whisperings behind us and he pressed me to his chest as he turned and said, loudly, " If anyone has a problem with us, then by all means tell us in front of everyone. And it was her husband by the way" he gestured to the body, and turned on his heel, leaving a piece of paper fluttering down and pulling me along with him. He strode down many winding, twisting streets until he stopped, turning to look at me, a sparkle in his eye.

" Now they have something to talk about." he walked us to a busy main road, hailing a taxi as it began to rain. As it pulled up, he turned and kissed me, his curly, wet hair falling into his face. We got in, receiving some strange looks from the driver, and held hands the entire way home.

Sherlock

Holding hands with him like this reminded me of a particular taxi journey not unlike this one, before I knew how much I loved him, where we twisted our fingers together. It was almost like we fitted together, the way our hands slotted together, and the way the top of his head fitted in the hollow of my throat. I smiled. It was meant to be. When we got out, walking slowly up the stairs, John tensed, like he felt something was wrong.

" What's wrong?" I gently probed. He shrugged, turning to look at me.

" It just feels like something bad is going to happen." we reached the door, and as we walked in John picked up the post. We sat at the kitchen table to read our post. John's face went white, and he started shaking.

" What is it?" he said nothing, only passed the letter over the table. Oh no. I started shaking as I read the letter, uniform with no logo, yet as I read it I knew who it was from.

" no. John, no!"


	8. Chapter 8

( A/N I have decided to write you this short chapter. Because of the response to last chapter from fangirl602 and Catuono, I have made a chapter before I go away. If you tell me what was in that letter then I will post another chapter if it's before I leave.)

I stared at the trembling paper grasped in my hand, willing the words to change. They did not. It spelled out, in black and white, the orders of what I wanted least.

" John... Please tell me this is optional... Please... Just don't leave me..." my voice was as shaky as my hands. John pressed his lips together, holding back tears.

" Sherlock" he whispered gently. " Sherlock, I leave tomorrow." I began to sink slowly to the floor as it dawned on me the terms upon which he would come back; either injured, if it was over, or... I could barely think the last one... Dead. But my John couldn't die, not when I had only just really truly found him. I curled up in a ball, pressing my face against the cold floor. I saw John's concerned face hovering above mine.

" Sherlock? " he sank down next to me, holding my head and stroking my cheek with his thumb." I promise you I will come back in one piece. It's ok. It's all going to be fine..." I could read in his face that he didnt really think that though...

John

I held back the tears. I had only just got

Sherlock back from the grips of his addiction. I couldn't let him slide into it again! But this was an order. I couldn't ignore it, not now I was declared physically and mentally fit. There was no other way. They were going to throw me straight back out there, right into the thick of it. But I didn't know how either of us were going to cope. I walked him to bed, clutching him close to me all night and whispering reassurances into his ear. Even though he held me close and we whispered to each other, when I succumbed to sleep I dreamed of him lying, broken in bed, dying from that terrible, powerful thing. I pulled him closer to me.

Sherlock

I rested my forehead against his, clutching the lapels of his coat as he stood by the door, a truck waiting for him. I kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips tenderly and gently, with an air of sadness. My eyes welled up with tears, and I blinked them back, hard.

" Write to me as often as you can. Come home as quickly as possible. I love you." I said quickly, my voice choking up. I hated goodbyes. So full of...sadness and emotion. He returned the kisses, stretching up to reach me.

" I love you always. Stay strong. I'll be home as quick as I can. " he joined the men in the truck, all of them in uniform. He looked so handsome in his uniform... Even though they all looked the same, I could tell my John apart from his mannerisms as he sat there, looking uncomfortable with the whole situation. I shut the door, breathing in deeply. I had to occupy myself in other ways. There was another way. I just had to find it.


	9. Chapter 9

( A/N we have a choice. Either end it here, or carry on. I'll leave it to a majority vote on the reviews. Also chapters for story( if it continues) will be longer but less frequent)

I rested my forehead against the cool doorframe, hearing my phone ring somewhere up in our flat. I registered the sound, yet was still getting over his absence when Mrs. Hudson walked in and handed me my phone. I sighed.

" What is it now Mycroft?" my voice trembled. I kept it as normal as possible.

" Come over to my place . Now, Sherlock." he said, hanging up before I could respond. I whirled around, grabbing my coat and scarf as I walked out of the door, leaving a stunned Mrs. Hudson behind.

John

I stared off into the distance. One of the men noticed my far-off expression, and asked me if I were ok.

" I'm fine. I'm just missing my boy-girlfriend." I blushed, hoping he wouldn't notice my slip." I don't know how they'll be without me." the man laughed coarsely.

" Did you 'ear that, lads? Old Nursie" he bent to read my badge" Watson 'ere is gay! 'E's got a boyfriend!" the men laughed. I sat up straighter.

" That's Doctor Watson to you. And this is nothing to do with my personal life. I have been dragged back from retirement from my duties as I served my part well last battle, and that's more than you can say for yourselves, all of you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get out now" I proceeded to jump out and walk away with the little dignity I had left.

I was greeted with a mixture of familiar faces and new ones, but all were pleased to see me. It was almost like a second family. As I got introduction after introduction, I let it all wash over me and thought about my Sherlock. I wondered how he was coping. I hoped he stayed away from that alleyway.

Sherlock

I knocked on Mycroft's door three times, and it opened after a scuffle, as if someone was hiding. I walked in, staring at my brother.

" I assume this is no social call then. This is a coincidence. I also wished to speak to you about something. " I broke the silence. He turned away, and began to walk down the hallway. I walked after him, pacing behind him when he came to a stop. I began to talk to him.

" You know about John, I know you do. So why? You have the power. " I said, grabbing his arm. He span around, his face a picture of madness.

" It's for your own good, you know." Mycroft said angrily." John does everything for you, and you need to learn to cope on your own. Also, he needs some time away from the stress of looking after you. Oh, and when he gets back, he likes foot rubs and salted popcorn." My brother smiled his twisted grin. I sniffed, holding back tears as I turned away. I smelt the peculiar whiff of an aftershave no-one but Gary...Graham...gr...gre... Lestrade wore. As I turned back to Mycroft, tears under control, I saw a suit jacket that was not of Mycroft's taste, nor tailored to his fit. I frowned at his unusually jubilant face as he ushered me out the door. I smiled as I strode down the street. Brilliant. Another mystery to crack. I turned up the collar of my coat and stood still, watching the crowds and waiting.

John

I lay awake, unable to sleep without him beside me. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I recalled his face, his high cheekbones, his serious face, his dark curls and his flawless, muscular yet lean chest. I rolled over, curling up and murmuring to myself plans, hopes and thoughts of our future, rather than turn my mind to the unpleasant time ahead of me.

" Sherlock... Oh Sherl.. " I whispered, the cracked, dirty window by the cobweb-ridden walls clouding up. I turned over again, restless.

I woke to the sunlight streaming through the misted window. I got dressed and took a deep breath before plastering a smile across my face, and going out to speak for the new nurses and doctors.

* ( somewhere overseas, in a hospital near the fighting)

" Listen up you lot! Today we will be tackling the largest area of wounded, and it's your job to attend to as many as possible there and then. We're running out of space in the hospital so I want as many sorted as you can. Right! Let's go then lads!" we ran out, grabbed our kits and headed out to the fighting, our teeth gritted and ready for the gore.

I breathed in deeply. Bullets whizzed over my head. I focused on the groaning man before me, rather than the burning pain in my shoulder where a bullet tore its way through my flesh. I ran back and forth, overseeing and stitching and carrying constantly. I had no moment of rest. Then the bomb exploded.

I was thrown backwards, ears ringing as I lept up again. I ran to those we were treating before, then squatted amid the shrapnel and blood, assessing the casualties and methodically working through them. I cried out in pain as a second bullet hit me, this time in the lower back. A third was soon after, grazing my shoulder then entering my arm. I dragged the other medical officers out of the pit created by the bomb and woke them. Groggily, they helped me to move those who could be saved to the hospital. I gritted my teeth. The pain across my shoulders and back was now almost unbearable. I moved on through the pain , forgetting about it as I set bones, wrapped bandages and dripped water into the parched mouths of the brave soldiers I was working so hard to save. As I worked my way down the priority list, my body began to almost mindlessly do the task in front of me, leaving my mind to wander to thoughts of Sherlock, of my amazing detective, of my boyfriend. The thoughts turned darker as I remembered the last time I left. I woke myself up by the time I was simply easing people out of this world, brushing aside my comrades concerns for my health. While I worked, I felt my shoulder stiffen up, my head begin to grow light. I absent-mindedly wondered how long it would take for me to lose enough blood when I lost consciousness.

I groaned as I woke. I had missed so much. I had let down my team, I was sure of it when I saw the Head Doctor staring down at me from my position on the floor. I got up slowly, checking my muddy coat. I was no longer leaking blood. That was good. I also noted I hadn't been moved far. That meant it hadn't been long. I braced myself for a lecture as he began to speak, my eyebrows all but disappearing into my hair as he went on.

" That was brave, going out immediately after an explosion. Quick thinking too. You saved many lives, as well as time after waking up those only lightly unconscious. Your effective prioritising meant those who needed immediate attention got it, and those who were beyond saving were nicely sent off. Your continual enthusiasm through pain and wounds til the point of being unconscious is something these men could learn from" he glared at the man who I recognised from the way here, and continued." many of these men are in your debt, and I think that you may be up for a promotion. Well done. Now let's go get some sleep before we're called out again. Oh, and Watson? Get those wounds cleaned up." we turned and left for the hospital.

* ( a couple of months later)

Sherlock

I paced the room, holding his jumper close to my face and missing him more than I thought possible.I wanted my John back now. No, I needed him.

I felt so frustrated. There was some sort of mystery going on with Mycroft and I couldn't work it out. The very idea that I , Sherlock Holmes, could not work something out perplexed me more than the mystery itself. My phone buzzed. I ran to the door, grabbed my coat and scarf and reluctantly dropped John's jumper before going out the door and hailing a taxi.

I stood before the scene, confused. I had been handed all the evidence. I had all the pieces of the puzzle for this little murder but I could not piece it together. My brow furrowed deeper. The rest of the police force here hovered in the background, watching me for my decision. They all depended upon my success. I turned sideways to see Lestrade and, surprisingly, my brother beside me. Each wore an uncharacteristic grin, and had pink cheeks, as though they had been standing in the cold, or exercising. I noted the closeness of their hands together. I saw the crumpled shirt that Lestrade wore, that was so clearly Mycroft's. I had clues enough for that puzzle, too. What was wrong with my brain? Lestrade stepped forwards.

" Sherlock? Have you worked it out?"

He asked. " No" my voice surprised me. It was higher than normal, as if I were very unhappy. " I... I just can't work it out." Lestrade stared at me in astonishment.

" Sherlock, I think you had better go home now. " Lestrade said " Without John, you cannot function properly. Take a break. " he looked at Mycroft as if to confirm something unrelated to this conversation. I realised I did not wish to be there, and so I turned on my heel and left, thinking of this mystery with all the pieces that didn't click into place...

I lay on his bed, curled up in my dressing gown , surrounded by his jumpers, and everything that smelled of him. I buried my head in his pillow, and resisted all of those urges. It was easier this time, knowing as I did that he would come back. The post flap went, and I meandered through the house as I read through the post. It was all boring stuff, until I reached John's letter. I stopped in my tracks. My heart began to race as I read it.

_My dear Sherlock, _

_Everything is going as well as expected, I have three bullet wounds already though, but don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I do hope that the fool,( the love of my life) I live with is being sensible and eating properly, sleeping and staying away from dark alleys. My love, I can't help but worry about you, even though I am the one in amidst the fighting. We have done many calls out, and it is my hope that I will no longer be needed by the time this reaches you, but I can only dream. Remember to shop, to sleep, to eat and to exercise a little each day. There has been a little drama as one of the men's sweetheart has been found to be cheating on him with another man in our call-out group, but I stay well clear. I am the oldest in our group, yet I have to tell the others to keep up. We generally get 2-3 calls a week, so I spend a lot of time helping out in the hospital. I have been talking to some of the men, and when I get back I have somewhere to show you. No point asking questions, and please don't deduce me as I want to surprise you. Thinking of you, my love. _

_Yours forever, _

_John_

My heart fluttered. He was alive, well and still thinking of me. I re-read it again and again, pressing it to my chest as I memorised the words. My John. How I loved him. I tried to imagine what we would look like to others, others who didn't know and then the pieces clicked. I smiled to myself. I finally had something to defend myself from Mycroft with...

John

I sat, shirtless and wincing as the nurse pulled piece after piece of shrapnel out of my back. She started to chatter, but ,seeing my face, stopped. It began to bleed again. The nurse swore, and worked as fast as she could to take out all the shrapnel. Once she had finished she bandaged me up, and I put my shirt on. I rejoined the rest of my team in the briefing room.

" Right then lads! This is to be our last call. They have agreed to surrender, but this little defensive pocket won't give up. Be careful of yourselves. I don't want to send you home early. Let's go! Watson! You're leading this one!" I jumped down from the table, going into a jog as I belted orders about groups. I myself would go where I was needed most. As soon as we saw the field of wounded, my heart sank. It was so muddy, we wouldn't be able to get any of the big equipment in there. I threw myself into it, being hit in the arm right away. I grimaced when I came to my first patient. A bayonet was half-healed into his leg, and it cut him every time he moved. It was also infectious. Add this to the head wound, and he was almost unsalvageable. I gently took the bayonet out, having to raise it completely up to get it untangled. Unfortunately, it was seen as an offensive gesture and I was shot twice in the back and once in the leg. I rubbed antiseptic on the wound, having gouged the bullet out, and bandaged it up before turning my attention to his head. I made sure he was awake and not in concussion before asking him many questions. I was finally finished, and afterwards got through as many as I could. I collapsed in a heap before the field doctor, who gave the order to send me home.

Sherlock

Remembering John's letter, I went into the kitchen and stood before the cupboards and fridge, staring at them for a while until my brain kicked in and I sat down to make a list. Feeling very proud of myself, I went out with my wallet to do the shopping.

John

I sat in the taxi, bouncing as much as my bandaged state would let me. I had a bandaged leg, arm and back, as well as a crutch because my left leg didn't work to well right then. I also had a nasty gash on my forehead that was open, as it had scabbed over. In addition to this, I now had a new pattern of scars crisscrossed across my back. I couldn't stop smiling, and was feeling so happy. I would see my Sherlock again so very soon. Oh, how I missed him. Every single part. I worried about him. Too much, I imagine. He is a grown man after all... Although sometimes he acts like a child. I hoped Sherlock was in, or had remembered that today was Mrs. Hudson's family day. I got out the taxi in front of that familiar door. I rang the doorbell. I knocked on the door. My grip on the crutch began to slip, and I fell as the darkness grew, unable to get up I panicked. I grew colder and longed for his long, warm arms. I shivered, my leg aching. I covered my face as a tall dark stranger loomed up out of the darkness.

" John?" he enquired. My heart leaped for joy. It was my Sherlock! Unable to make coherent sentences from the cold, I nodded, stretching my arm up to touch his face as he bent down. His hand found mine as he looked me over.

" oh dear... I better get you in" he muttered. He shifted the shopping bags to pick me up. Wait-shopping?! I smiled. He listened to me. As we made our way up the stairs, he bent his head and kissed me.

" Welcome back, John. I missed you, my love." he murmured as he put me down on the sofa. I hobbled my way to my bedroom. My jumpers were all over my bed, with a small circle in the middle, as if someone had slept there. I laughed as I got undressed. Oh Sherlock. He came in when I was ready for bed, taking in my bandages and scars. He interlocked our fingers, then pressed his lips to mine, our mouths moulding to each other. My hand left his to snake around his neck, while his long arms encircled my waist. He kissed my cut on my forehead, whispering my name.

" Oh Sherl. How I've missed you.." I sighed as we lay in the darkness, tucking my head under his chin.

" Where did you get that nickname from? " he asked , his voice suddenly hard.

" It's what I've always called you, in my head." I said, ducking my head to avoid his eyes. He brought my chin up to meet his gaze.

" No. I like it. It's nice. Its... It's soft. Like... cake" I laughed lightly at my love's attempt at recovering himself.

" Never leave me again." he whispered after a while.

" Never" I agreed.


	10. Chapter 10

( A/N this is the last one, due to the lack of response to the last update, however I am open to suggestions for the next one. I'm thinking of another Johnlock starting in a different place, done differently , or maybe The Hunger Games, or Wholock. )

I woke with the pleasant weight of John on top of me. He wasn't awake yet, so I brushed my lips along his neck, nibbling at his ear, kissing his forehead and wrapping him up in my arms. He began to return the kisses, then I sat up abruptly, causing him to fall off me.

" Hey!" John said " I wasn't finished yet..." I pulled him up, the ghost of a smile flitting across my face as I ran around, throwing clothes on and yanking him with me.

" We've got to visit my brother.." I said, laughing at the astounded expression on my love's face, while he held out a piece of toast.

" W.. Why now? I wanted to stay in bed with you for longer.." John moaned as we bustled out the door.

" You'll see." I said cryptically, throwing my scarf over my shoulder.

John

We reached Mycroft's place, and I was still none the wiser. I had no clue as to why we were here, other than it wasn't a happy, social call. Mycroft answered the door.

" Come to laugh, have you?" he said, his voice rough.

" Who is it, sweetie?" a familiar voice came from inside, wielding unfamiliar words. Behind Mycroft, in a shirt and briefs, stood-

" Lestrade." Nodded Sherlock " About a month or two long relationship, still , relatively intimate. " he reached behind him, finding my hand and drawing me closer. He leaned round and kissed my head. " Bet you've got nothing on us though." he smirked. Mycroft returned the look.

" I should hope not, between drugs and wounds! We have a safer relationship, don't we Greg?" Mycroft turned back and kissed Lestrade. " Finished?" he asked.

" Yes." replied Sherlock. I stood behind him, gawping at the two Holmes brothers. I was only just catching up when Sherlock pulled me away.

" Mmm... Sherl... " I moaned, while he traced kisses along my neck, shoulders and face. I tried to form a coherent sentence, but failed. " Couldn't you have warned me? I mean, Greg's my friend, and it's just..weird. Sherl! You're so distracting" he stopped, and looked up at me, eyes all innocent.

" you want me to stop?"

" No! " I moaned." just let me return the favour." we lay there, entangled on the sofa, entwined in body and spirit. Just wholly and completely right together. This sounds cliché, but we were just meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet, our fates were as inextricably bound together as our hands. We fell asleep on the sofa, not even waking when Mrs Hudson put a blanket over us.

( and so falls the curtain on another happy ending)


End file.
